


Sour Candy

by skywalkersatsea



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fade to Black, Insomnia, M/M, Oblivious Galo Thymos, POV Lio Fotia, Post-Canon, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skywalkersatsea/pseuds/skywalkersatsea
Summary: “Nice?” Lio snarls back, his fist gripping the leather strap bound across Galo’s shoulders. “I’ll give you nice, Galo Thymos.”Lio can't sleep and decides to spar with a certain firefighter to get his mind off things.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 8
Kudos: 130





	Sour Candy

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration by Blackpink/Lady Gaga. I do not own the song Sour Candy or Promare.

_Ask me to be nice and then I’ll do it extra mean_

* * *

Lio can’t sleep.

Moonlight pours through the tiny cracks and crevices of his apartment walls, illuminating the small space nearly crumbling around him. It’s taken months for crews to dismantle and clear the Parnassus, nevermind reinforcing the infrastructure of the buildings still standing. 

A billion-ton ship dropping back to Earth will weaken a city like that.

Despite being offered a place with Galo, with any of the other Burning Rescue team, he’s chosen this literal hole-in-the-wall apartment. It’s been abandoned, either by a family chosen by Kray Foresight to board the Parnassus, or possibly ex-Burnish hunted down and captured. It’s small even for a studio apartment, but he’s used to cramped spaces like this, and it feels like a sin to live in higher luxury when so many of his people have so little. 

Plus, the proximity to the FDPP is nice, Lio has to admit. Not that any of them know he’s here. Galo’s already assumed that Lio has settled into Promepolis civilization without a hitch, in some nice apartment with some nice, nondiscriminatory landlord. 

But Lio’s tired of fighting, in that sense. Tired of explaining in an attempt to be nice, over and over, how he should be treated like a normal human being, that being Burnish wasn’t a choice or a curse, et cetera. He’s tired of dealing with the stares, the mutters behind his back, the brazen questions from reporters. He’s more than happy to let Galo deal with all that nonsense. So he’s stayed a recluse, the only people knowing his location being Meis and Gueira. 

The physical urge to fight, to run, still lingers, though. Sleeping for more than a few hours at a time is still hard for Lio to adjust to, and the lack of activity, of constant motion and _go, go, go_ makes him antsy. So Lio’s made a habit of taking walks, slinking around the alleys and backstreets of Promepolis as if he’s still on the run. It helps calm him down, but tonight he knows he’ll need a bit more exercise to be satisfied.

He shoves the worn blanket off his shoulders and walks to the window, eyeing the blue windows of the FDPP a few streets away. He’s sure they have some sort of punching bag or equipment for sparring- there’s no _way_ Galo and Varys would have the muscles they do without additional weight training or exercise.

The clock across the room blinks 1:04 am as Lio pulls on a black leather jacket, the perfect match to his boots and pants, which are already securely fastened on his body. Always ready to run, to go at a second’s notice.

Galo picks up on things like that occasionally: Lio’s quirks and habits as an ex-Burnish on the run, with a sad expression in that dumb face of his. Lio brushes it aside with a nasty comment every time it happens. He doesn’t want Galo’s pity. He’d much rather see that gleam of mania, that pure excitement they shared in the Lio de Galon, sparkling in Galo’s blue eyes instead.

Sometimes Lio can't help but be cruel on instinct. Bitter, hating words; they come easy to him, because the opposite makes him vulnerable. Kindness, consideration- that means trust. And back in the day, trust was hard to come by, and a single misstep could've meant death. 

For the most part, though, Galo takes his attitude with a grain of salt, determined to chip away at him until he finds what Lio hides underneath. 

Like sour candy, a hard shell giving away to a sweetness deep in his center.

Lio finds it hard to let go of that sour exterior. Especially when Galo expects so much of him that he thinks it’s impossible to meet those expectations.

Thinking about Galo fuels his insomnia, and he marches over to the station in a matter of minutes, slinking in the secret side entrance Remi showed him once.

Lio ignores the entryway to the communal spaces and kitchen, and tiptoes to the enormous garage where the machinery is. Maybe if he can’t find anything to punch, getting in a mecha will be just as therapeutic.

What he doesn’t expect to find is the garage completely lit up and Galo hanging from a metal bar on the ceiling, clad in only his bright red firefighting pants and arm sleeve. He’s doing pullups, and Lio can’t deny that he’s enjoying the view- his back is to him, the muscles in his shoulders and upper back flexing & straining as he hoists himself up and down, and fuck, those _arms_. 

Galo hasn’t spotted him yet, and as the many seconds tick by his pace doesn’t slow at all. Lio isn’t convinced the man isn’t part machine; no regular person could have the stamina, appetite, and lack of braincells that make up Galo Thymos.

Lio watches him with fascination from his little corner, until Galo somehow senses his presence and jumps down.

“I know it’s you, Lio! I can feel it in my-”

“Burning firefighter soul, yeah, yeah,” Lio mutters as he approaches the firefighter. He’s barely broken a sweat (again, _how)_ , and there’s a grin on his face that would shine just as brightly as if it were daylight, versus the middle of the night. 

It makes Lio _furious_ , sometimes, how this man can radiate the energy of the fucking sun at any time of the day.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Galo asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Wanted to spar,” Lio says, walking past him and searching the back walls for equipment. “If not, then maybe take a mecha out for a spin. Lucia wouldn’t mind-”

“Lucia would kill you!” Galo tries to grab his arm, which Lio successfully twists out of. “She’s threatened to shave my head if I touched any of her stuff.”

“Exactly. Because you’re you. I, on the other hand, have her full trust not to break any of her toys.”

Galo sputters for words as Lio leans against the red engine, a faint smile turning up his lips. He’s right, and he knows it. Lio’s gained the trust and confidence of the mad engineer, ever since he’s given her detailed notes and advice on replicating his Burnish armour.

Galo stops attempting to make a valid argument and pouts, so Lio takes pity on him. “No mecha, then. Want to spar?”

The offer is genuine; fighting a real person versus a stationary object sounds more appealing to him. And besides, he’s definitely eager for a rematch since the day they met and got himself captured on purpose. 

Galo, never one to back down from a challenge, cracks his knuckles and sinks into a fighting stance. “You’re on!”

Lio copies him, widening his feet and brushing loose strands of hair out of his eyes. He sees Galo’s attention drawn to the motion of his hands, and lunges, catching him off-guard.

Galo recoils quickly, for a man of his bulk, but Lio’s in front of him again, throwing jab after jab at his chest with Galo barely able to throw up blocks in time.

Lio’s fast but Galo’s endurance is unreal. Five, ten minutes have passed and it feels like an _eternity_ ; he’s losing steam quickly. Galo notices this and pauses for a moment, holding up his hands as if he was surrendering.

“Yo, let’s take a break, you look tired-”

If Lio’s had a dollar for every time someone commented on how tired he looks, he’d be a multimillionare. 

He lets out a frustrated growl but doesn’t stop his attacks, a new wave of rage taking over his body. If he still had the Promare, if that fire was still coursing through his body, he wouldn’t be this weak, damn it! 

He lands a hit on Galo’s neck, near the point where he knocked him out all those months ago in the cave. Galo stumbles, but Lio is unrelenting as he shoves a knee in his stomach, knocking the air out him but he _refuses_ to go down-

“Come on, you idiotic sack of muscles,” Lio pants as Galo still towers over him. “Fucking yield already!”

Galo’s used to the insults, but apparently not to Lio’s combat boot being crushed onto his bare foot. He winces, and Lio feels a bit ashamed.

Lio’s fighting dirty but he can’t help it, it’s what’s saved his ass all these years against those fuckers on Freeze Force and any other vile threat Kray came up with to hunt him down. 

Galo, on the other hand, doesn’t deserve it, and he _knows_ that, deep down. So Lio backs off and lets Galo get a handful of his jacket in those huge hands of his, lets himself be shoved against the red fire engine and dragged up to eye level so Galo can grit his teeth in some semblance of a scowl.

He’s not doing it because he secretly likes being manhandled by Galo, nope.

“You know, for a practice spar,” Galo’s eyes narrow, “you’re being a bit mean. Could it hurt to be a little nice?” 

Lio almost laughs aloud. Leave it to Galo to make insults with the simplest of words: nice, mean. As if they were kids in elementary school, not men in their early twenties with a developed vocabulary.

“Nice?” Lio snarls back, his fist gripping the leather strap bound across Galo’s shoulders. “I’ll give you nice, _Galo Thymos._ ”

He leans his other arm back, as if to throw a punch at Galo’s face, but purposefully shoots his fist to the side of his head. Galo immediately drops him back to his feet, already leaning back to avoid the punch. While Lio’s body is moving forward and Galo’s is moving backwards, he uses that momentum to hook his leg around Galo’s and _yanks._

Galo’s look of utter surprise as they fall makes it all worth it, Lio’s frustration and anger melting away on the spot. He lands solidly on Galo’s chest, quickly pinning Galo’s arms above his head and smirking in satisfaction as the larger man squirms underneath him. Galo’s face is turning a rather hilarious shade of red, almost identical to his gaudy firefighter pants.

“How was that nice, exactly?” Galo huffs but doesn’t make any move to tug his arms out of Lio’s grip. Lio pretends not to watch a drop of sweat roll down the crevice of his bicep.

“I could’ve actually landed the punch. Marred that pretty face of yours,” Lio grins.

Galo swallows, and Lio takes a moment to assess his position. His legs are bracketed over Galo’s hips, stray strands of mint-blonde hair falling over his cheeks as he leans over Galo to taunt him.

It’s the feeling of being shoved against the engine, but a million times better.

“Your face is prettier,” Galo finally mumbles, and _shit_ , that really amplifies all the warm, fuzzy things inside of him.

If he were nicer, like Galo wants him to be, he’d get off him and offer a hand to help him up. That’s what he should do.

But Lio’s not quite _nice_.

He lowers himself closer to Galo’s face, so near he can see his lilac-pink eyes reflected in Galo’s bright blues, and rolls his hips down.

Galo exhales with a soft sigh, his hands flexing above Lio’s wrists, and it’s too much to see Galo’s perfect pink lips parted in front of him. 

He does it again, and Galo closes his eyes, mouth still open in a round ‘o’, and this time Lio can feel the hardness jutting into his hip.

“Fuck,” Lio whispers, before bending down all the way to kiss him.

Galo kisses back immediately, tugging his hands out of Lio’s grasp and burying them in Lio’s hair. His leather jacket is quickly shrugged off of him and he’s pulled impossibly closer onto Galo’s chest, which smells like leather and smoke. On any other person it would smell horrible but it fits Galo perfectly.

They’re a tangle of limbs on the concrete floor next to the fire engine, and Lio’s vaguely aware that it’s nearly two in the morning by now and the garage is still lit up and anyone could walk in to investigate and find them, but, well. That’s part of the fun.

“I changed my mind,” Galo says when they break apart, a hand nestled in the curve of Lio’s waist.

“About?” Lio arches a brow.

“You don’t have to be nice to me tonight,” Galo whispers, kissing the skin right beneath Lio’s ear, and his toes curl in his boots.

He knows an invitation when he hears one, and right now Galo’s giving him permission to be as wicked as he wants to be.

Lio’s answer is a smooth purr. “Alright.”

Sleep can wait a little while longer, he reasons.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos appreciated!


End file.
